


Muscle

by queuebird



Series: Writin' Dirty 2019 [12]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Writin' Dirty 2019, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18996790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queuebird/pseuds/queuebird
Summary: “Do you like seafood?”





	Muscle

“Do you like seafood?”

“Mmm, sure.” Arthur twirls his pen in his hand, phone squashed between his face and his shoulder. “Why?”

“Be there in a bit. Wear something nice.” Eames hangs up.

…

When he opens his door, Eames whistles through his teeth.

“Helloooo, handsome,” he says.

Arthur rolls his eyes and nudges his way past Eames outside, locking the door behind them. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Eames pats his ass lovingly. “Never gets old.”

“Should I be worried about the level of objectification in this relationship?” Arthur asks.

Eames makes mock-scandalized expression. _“Arthur,_ I would _never_ reduce you merely to your lovely, pert little arse.” He pats Arthur’s ass again.

“Touch me again, and I’ll wring your neck.” He fusses with his keys as they make their way down the walk toward Eames’s car. He turns around, and Eames’s eyes hurriedly jump up to his. “I should let you know--I don’t put out on first dates.”

“Saucy,” Eames says, daring an extra ass-pat before he escapes around the car to the driver’s side.

…

The restaurant is...nice. Really nice.

Arthur adjusts his cuffs as the waiter leads them to a reserved table in a quieter corner of the room. The lighting is low, the tables are covered in thick white cloth, and the walls are heavy with red curtains.

Eames pulls his chair out for him. Arthur snaps a look at him before he can sneak in a grope, and he backs away into his own chair.

Arthur is no stranger to the world of the elite, especially when he has to meet with clients, but it’s taken some getting used to. It’s certainly not something he dabbles around in during his free time, and Eames knows that. Arthur’s pretty sure.

“Why do they spell ‘mussel’ like that?” Eames asks.

Arthur’s eyes snap up. Eames is hiding behind the massive black menu. “Like what?” Arthur replies.

“M-U-S-S-E-L. And I thought my spelling was bad.”

Arthur stares at the bit of Eames’s head poking up above the menu. “...How do you spell mussel, the seafood, Eames?”

“Well, it’s M-U-S-C-L-E, like the body part,” Eames says distractedly. “Funny for such a nice place to get that wrong...I’ve heard the crab here is good, want to split?”

“Eames, that’s fucking not how mussel is spelled.”

Eames finally puts the menu down. “Hmm?”

“Mussel the seafood and muscle the body part are two different words,” Arthur says. “They just sound the same.”

Eames frowns. “Hmm.”

“Is this why the Ankara job was busted?” Arthur whispers furiously. “Because you can’t _spell?”_

“I honestly thought he was just really clever,” Eames protests. 

“I can’t believe I’m dating you,” Arthur says.

…

The meal is lovely, if slightly uncomfortable. Arthur complains about the number of forks on the table for a bit, but the crab is delicious and Eames keeps looking at him, and it’s lovely. Later, Arthur lets Eames make up for picking a terrible restaurant and also fucking the Ankara job. No matter what he might’ve said he didn’t do on first dates.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://queuebird.tumblr.com)


End file.
